


We are no Gods

by orphan_account



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: (not jeremiah or bruce or alfred), An iconic Joker quote in the end so watch out, Blood, Bruce doesn't really deserve any of this, Death, Jeremiah is actually a bastard, Joker - Freeform, Kidnapping, The one where Jeremiah is ready to drive Bruce insane, knifes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-23 21:07:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I admire your strength and brain, Bruce. That is where we are similar." He was threateningly walking even closer, soon not leaving free space between both of them, breathing warm air to Bruce's ear. For the first time Bruce felt Jeremiah's new scent. The same mint, but the vanilla was gone. It seems like it was replaced by something spicier, mixed with some lemony smell, like a herb, maybe vervain?"And accepting our true selves..." he paused, supporting himself with one hand on the back of the chair, the other looking for something in his pocket. 'is where we are different.'





	We are no Gods

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys will enjoy this and please note, this fic kind of replaces the canon of the show and Bruce DOES NOT know anything about Jerome's and Jeremiah's childhood, like that he lied about Jerome abusing him and all that jam. Plus Jeremiah and Bruce never have and are not in a sexual relationship.  
> (my friend gave this idea of kidnapping and I'm glad I finally finished it!)

A sharp intake of air, a loud gasp echoed in the room as Bruce suddenly woke up. 

After abruptly turning his head and trying to locate any other people he became aware of what he thought was a basement being empty. He could not be sure though since the are behind his back was being blocked by the back of the leather chair he was strapped to. Wrists were firmly locked in place by straps attached to the chair's arms, not allowing any sort of movement. Bruce tried to move his legs as well before finding his calfs being trapped as well, holding him in an almost fully vertical position. His feet weren't touching the concrete floor, legs spread slightly.  At the very last, he tried flinching forward, as if trying to stand up and pull away, and even though his belly wasn't strapped to anything, it wasn't enough to break free. 

Bruce noticed his vision being slightly blurred and distorted, even after blinking. He might have been drugged, that would also explain his inability to focus on something for longer. 

Not just that there was no one else, the only source of light was a lamp, annoyingly blinking above his head, with time making Bruce nervous. He could hear water drops dripping on the floor somewhere, every drop echoing and then getting lost in the dark, empty room, only filled with his mixed feelings. Usually people would be afraid, scared in such situations, but Bruce was ready to face whatever is waiting for him. He didn't need to think much to make a list of people who might have done this. With no doubt, Gotham is full of jealous and treacherous people who want to bathe in Bruce's money, maybe blood even. But they weren't at the top of his list. After a month of looking for _him_ , he might have found Bruce first. The thought sent goosebumps all over his body, also a little bit of fear. Not because he was scared of what Jeremiah might do to him, surprisingly that was the last thing he cared about, but of facing him again. 

Bruce came back to the moment they met. ' _Mister Valeska, I'm Bruce Wayne._ ' You know what they say, handshake can say a lot about people. Jeremiah's hands were firm, he was in a good form, but his skin... as soft silk, squishy and warm. Being this close to him, Bruce could smell Jeremiah's perfume. He always smelled like vanilla and mint, so hypnotising and pleasant. Oh, and the sweetness of his voice. Like an angel. Differently from Jerome, he had a slightly higher voice, not so deep and it added him humbleness. 

Bruce and Jeremiah didn't spend a lot of time before... the gas, but Bruce will never believe that what he saw in that bunker was all an act. After Jerome's death, Bruce and Jeremiah were meeting daily. Jeremiah would invite Bruce for tea and they would discuss his projects in which Bruce was honestly interested in. Jeremiah was always so passionate about what he was doing, not to mention he was very good at it. He was a real introvert. Truth to be said, despite the fact that Jeremiah was very confident and quiet, his place was always a little messy. Sketches and pencils all over the place, a lot of stickers on the walls, sometimes he would leave empty tea cups on his table and other stuff like that. There were sweet and weird things about him. For example, he would pour the water into the cup before he adds the tea, most people do it the other way around. Bruce alway giggled when he saw Jeremiah doing it and he would sigh and shoot back 'Why do you laugh every time I make tea?'.  He also likes to keep his room cooler and wear thicker clothes instead. He loved wearing sweaters, he had this dark purple one with a green collar which was Bruce's favourite. They had conversations not related to business or work, talking about what countries they'd like to visit. Every time Bruce started talking about Switzerland Jeremiah dropped everything and listened, sipping his red tea with honey, vanilla and milk, making that kind of annoying, but cozy sipping sound. Bruce was even considering taking him there, Jeremiah said he loves snow and it's been a long time since he's seen it. He told him stories of him and his dad building snowmen and it always put a smile on Jeremiah's face. Him smiling or laughing was a rare event. He himself never talked about his childhood or parents. Once he said that he has a good memory of his mom and him choosing his birthday gifts, but that's all. Bruce didn't want to bother him with questions that might be uncomfortable or make him upset.

When Jeremiah started acting weird, Bruce felt responsible for him. He has never has such a close friend and has never spent so much time with anyone but his parents. Bruce thought that he finally found his _soulmate._ They shared the same experience and had the same pain pulling them down and down, but it made Bruce sad that Jeremiah didn't fight it. Now that he is aware of the whole story, he thinks that not only the gas made him the figure he is now. He was too week to fight the challenges that the world had ready for him. And that is where he and Bruce are different. 

With that thought, he heard the door behind him opening, closing loudly and echoing in the empty space, making Bruce want to cover his ears, but the straps won't let him move a millimeter. He figured that someone probably walked in and took a deep breath, sending the nervousness trying to take over him back where it came from. As soon as the echo disappeared, gentle, clattering steps were getting closer to Bruce. Only Jeremiah's shoes could make such sound. The room must be big, since it took some time for Jeremiah to get to the chair and stand up behind Bruce, out of his sight. A cold breath tickled Bruce's neck and only then did he realise how close the man is. He couldn't suppress the shiver forcing it's way on his skin. 

'You are a sleepyhead, you know...' Jeremiah spoke. Bruce expected his tone to be cold and emotionless, but there was a tiny bit of gloat in his voice, though he could only hear it because he was so close. 'All we gave you was a slight medical sedative and you were asleep for almost 4 hours.’ Jeremiah slowed down on the 4 hours part, highlighting it and stating as an interesting fact. 

Bruce was surprised himself. He realised that he has never been under anesthesia before. Not the best feeling, he would say. But he doesn’t. He remains silent and confident, not giving Jeremiah the pleasure of seeing him weak, which is what he wasn’t but certainly what Jeremiah expected. If Bruce could see him now, he would see Jeremiah’s pale face waiting for some answer or reaction, but after getting nothing he sighed.

"Look, Bruce...'' He approached him, this time with a note of boredom in his voice. He sounded either tired, or unhappy. "I do have ways of making you more chatty, but shedding your blue blood is not my intention." Jeremiah explained, finally stepping into Bruce’s sight. 

He looked as fancy as always. There were two things missing though: the jacked and his hat, nor was he wearing glasses. He was wearing a white shirt with almost unvisible, small dark green buttons and either black or dark purple pants, the lightning was too bad to see. His shoes looked like from 60s horror movie, but it matched him perfecty. This vintage kind of look, his manners, pale face and slow voice was his secret of looking creepy. Something Jerome never had. He was openly crazy, you always expect something insane or wild, but with Jeremiah... that tiny part of him which was sane was also the intellegent one. 

"I will though if you don’t participate." Jeremiah finished, This time he sounding threatening. Jeremiah wasn’t the one who would bluff. 

He eyed Bruce. He must admit, Bruce was a really mature grown young man, he knew how to handle business and behave in stressful situations like this. He anticipated Bruce acting strong and unbreakable. To be fair, drugs weren't Jeremiah's favourite way of dealing with _victims_ , but Bruce would certainly put on a fight and harm his men, plus still loose and get hurt himself. Torture, weapons - not really Jeremiah's thing, though he admired people who were good at it, who knew how it all works. He could have become one of those himself. Psychology and anatomy always interested him in school. The way humans work, emotions and feelings, what causes them... what _destroys_ them. 

Bruce squirmed in his chair, trying to rub his wrists which felt a little numb from the tight leather strips which might bother the circulation.

Then he finally registered what Jeremiah just said. Participate. He froze, his eyes finding Jeremiah’s, showing signs of confusion.

Jeremiah quickly caught the glance and smiled with his pearl white teeth. He clicked his tongue and let out a villainous giggle, which echoed and made it sound even scarier than it actually was. 

"Yes..." He hissed, pronouncing the s longer, sounding like a snake.

"I admire your strength and brain, Bruce. That is where we are similar." He was threateningly walking even closer, soon not leaving free space between both of them, breathing warm air to Bruce's ear. For the first time Bruce felt Jeremiah's new scent. The same mint, but the vanilla was gone. It seems like it was replaced by something spicier, mixed with some lemony smell, like a herb, maybe vervain?

"And accepting our true selves..." he paused, supporting himself with one hand on the back of the chair, the other looking for something in his pocket. 'is where we are different.' He breathed out dramatically as if this had to sound likena moral and stopped stirring his hand in the pocket. Jeremiah didn’t rush showing Bruce what he found there. Instead he clicked a button on the back of the chair, which turned out to be designed exactly for uses like this. If Bruce could just see the whole console on the back of it, it was full of various _torture buttons_. It could also be used for interrogations, since there was a screen and 6 sensors which would be connected to person’s fingers to measure pulse. A basic, mini lie detector. 

But it adjusted into a more horizontal position so Bruce was almost laying. 

This sent mixed signals to Bruce. The first thought that came to his mind was torture. Jeremiah might try breaking him physically, so maybe he’ll break mentally too? Even though Bruce trained a lot and physical pain wasn’t anything new to him, receiving it from a person he used to know so well, someone he honestly trusted, was a scary idea. 

Jeremiah released the button and looked Bruce in the eye. He could see the tiny sparkle of fear in it, but rage and strenght were still in charge. He could easily manipulate Bruce into using that rage to drive him insane, maybe setting him free, giving a knife to his hands and saying “Kill me for all I’ve done”, Jeremiah was ready to play along, but he knew this wasn’t going to be so easy. He saw Bruce as his equal, as his old _poor_ self, not knowing what path he is on, what his true nature is. No, Jeremiah knew exactly what will work for such a special person as Bruce.

Jeremiah finally lifted his hand up, bringing a syringe filled with dark liquid closer to Bruce’s eyes so he sees it. Brunete’s eyes widened just a little.  Jeremiah rested his hands on the corner of the chair.

"This is the alternative." he said, putting the syringe on Bruce’s chest which felt heavier than ever. He refused to look his capturer in the eye, scared to maybe find some of the old Jeremiah and feel pity for him. He deserved prison. Bruce was burning with the need to give Jeremiah what he deserves - Arkham. 

"The alternative for what I have ready for you." Bruce's heart skipped a beat but he didn't even flinch. Jeremiah grinned villainously and with eyes still fixed on Bruce's he snapped his fingers, hand in the air. The door behind snapped open and Bruce leaned his head back to see who comes in. 

A tall masculine man encouraged two people which Bruce couldn't see from such distance walk into the room by pushing them from the back. Jeremiah nodded to the man to close the door, leaving two figures stand in the dark corner. They didn't even move or make a sound until Jeremiah sighed loudly, making sure everyone in the room hears.

"Don't be shy, come join us.' He gestured with his hand still in the air. This didn't seem to calm anyone though, but the figures slowly moved from their position and walked towards, almost not lifting their feet from the floor, gliding. 

As they got closer, Bruce could finally see who both were. The taller figure was a blonde man, somewhere between 30 and 40 years old. Next to him stood a ginger woman, younger than him but not much. Both faces were pale, hair greasy and messy. Bruce noticed that they were surprisingly silent, a silver colour tape was covering both's mouths, probably locking pathetic, gurgling sounds that they would let out if just could.  Their hands were tied in front of them with the same tape.

But as weird as the people's faces looked, they weren't what surprised Bruce and made him furrow his eyebrows. The clothes. Arkham uniforms. Bruce couldn't hide his confusion, he turned his head to face Jeremiah just to find his lips curled up into a sinister, dark smile. 

"I decided to not push you too much." Jeremiah said. Was this supposed to sound as an explanation? The prisoners didn't seem any less confused than Bruce. Jeremiah kept his plan to himself only. 

"Bruce, I'm going to remove the restrains now. I want you to understand that if you don't behave it's going to be only worse, are you with me?" Jeremiah approached Bruce, who was digging his nails into the leather chair, leaving marks. He didn't really hear anything Jeremiah said, in his mind he was thinking of all the worst scenarios that might happen. Bruce felt a little relieved when he remember that Alfred is not here, all he really cared about when it came to Jeremiah and his plans was that they won't involve Alfred in any way. Even captured, tied and in Jeremiah's hands he cared about Alfred more than about himself. 

"Bruce?" Jeremiah repeated. To Bruce his voice sounded distorted, it echoed in his head and felt like a migraine. He felt a few soft taps on his right cheek and only then did he realise that his eyes were closed all this time. He lazily opened them and found Jeremiah's face much closer to him than he thought it was. His pale blue eyes were peaceful, as always, pupils almost invisible. 

"Okay." Bruce said finally, blinking quickly to clear his mind. He expected to sound strong, but instead his voice was weak and tired. He figured he just almost passed out. 

Jeremiah worked quickly, harshly and a little aggressively removing all four restrains that have been holding Bruce for almost 5 hours now. First he undid both arms and as soon as they were free Bruce rubbed them. He noticed two red marks that the straps left on his wrists, the one on the right seemed to bleed just a little. 

When Jeremiah was done with the restrains and Bruce could finally move his limbs. For just a moment he considered attacking him, maybe knocking him out and run, but Jeremiah was not stupid. He has probably anticipated Bruce trying something so there are should guards waiting outside. Jeremiah noticed Bruce being stuck in his own thoughts.

"I appreciate you planning ahead, but right now I need you focused. Come on, stand up.' He encouraged and stretched out his right hand. _What a nice gesture from someone who's keeping you captured,_ Bruce thought. He eyed Jeremiah's pale _porcelain_ hand, blue veins so visible through the transparent skin of his wrist, contrasting with it's colour. He used to hold that hand while telling him that everything is going to be okay, that he's better than Jerome, _he's dead now_. Bruce felt his eyes watering, but immediately sent the tears back. 

He glanced Jeremiah before putting his hand into Jeremiah's cold one, warping his fingers around it and holding on tightly. The drugs were still in his system, causing difficultness to focus or think clearly. He pushed himself up, all his weight on Jeremiah. His legs shook, almost sending him to the floor, but Bruce squeezed Jeremiah's hand and managed to stay stood up. Jeremiah supported him by his other arm warped around Bruce's back, his fingers on the area of the younger man's heart, feeling the flutter, the erratic rhythm of it. He couldn't help but grin above Bruce's neck, oh if he only knew what was coming. 

Step by step they got closer to the prisoners, faces paralysed from fear. Both seemed to know who Bruce and Jeremiah were, though Bruce wasn't the one they were scared of. 

Jeremiah slowly let go of Bruce, letting him stand fully by himself. His hand slid into his pocket again, this time coming out of there quickly. Something sparkled. Metal. _OH.._

As the metal item was lifted up, where there was more light, Bruce finally came to realise that it was a knife. A small pocketknife, extremely sharp though. He winced. 

"Relax, I'm going to explain everything, Bruce." Jeremiah said calmly. He leaned closer to Bruce's ear, brushing the sensitive area with his nose there, making Bruce shiver and flinch. He could hardly hold himself from grabbing that knife and using it on his capturer, the thought of Alfred kept him from doing that. 

"The woman..." Jeremiah started, whispering. "She killed her 6 months baby. Suffocated him with a pillow a year ago." Jeremiah stopped, looking for something in Bruce's eyes. The boy remained calm, but it was just what Jeremiah saw. Deep inside he was already boiling. Jeremiah sighed sadly, a silent ' _well_ ' escaped his lips. "And this man... Five years ago he blew up a school bus, with children in it. He escaped prison once." Jeremiah said, the hand holding the knife slowly travelled down to Bruce's. Bruce felt the cold metal slipping into his hand. Jeremiah made sure that Bruce takes it, holding Bruce's hand in his palm. 

Bruce tensed his muscles, his hand shaking. He looked down to the weapon he was holding. He wanted to let go, let it fall and never pick it up, but the grip controlling his hand was too tight, even if he wanted to pull away the sedatives would not let him. Nor would Jeremiah. 

"They are both insane. Cold blooded killers, Bruce." Jeremiah's voice was getting more aggressive. "You and me? We are no Gods. But lets send them to one so he punishes them for what they've done" Jeremiah spit some of his saliva on Bruce's neck from all the passion. 

Bruce didn't even notice. He didn't even blink, he could swear he almost stopped breathing and his head was begging him to lie down, rest. Physically and mentally exhausted he was too weak to say anything to Jeremiah, push him away, fight him. He thought of his words... We are no Gods. He was right. He was Satan. But Bruce had a choice. He wasn't born bad, he was not going to have blood on his hands, tainting everything he was, everything he was taught to be. Even the fact that both people deserve this won't change him. 

"Bruce, please, breathe." Jeremiah demanded, his nails digging into Bruce's skin through his black shirt. And he did, breathe in. As he released he turned his head to the left, his nose almost touching Jeremiah's face.

"I won't kill." Bruce stated. The expression on his face wasn't any less colder than Jeremiah's usual expression. He was right, they _were_ alike. Not enough for Bruce to kill for him though.

"Huh..." Jeremiah breathed out, not hiding the disappointment. For just a moment he sounded like his brother. "Okay..." He pulled away, leaving Bruce stand alone. His feet were pointed at the prisoners, and so was the knife. He approached them as a predator does his pray. His movements were slow, graceful, shoes making that clattering sound again, reminding Bruce of the moment he walked it. Jeremiah circled them, brushing their shaking bodies with the tip of his knife, teasing. They were too afraid to move, muscles visibly tensed, eyes shut. 

After one circle he stopped behind the woman right in front of Bruce and lightning fast tilted her head up with his left hand, holding her by the slim neck, his left pressed the knife to her jugular, threateningly close enough to breaking the thin skin there. She winced, trying to push Jeremiah away with her hands, but it seemed more pathetic than helpful. Bruce took a step forward with his hands stretched out, but Jeremiah only took a step back, maintaining the same 3 steps distance between them. 

"How good were you at anatomy in school, Bruce? How long do you think she'll bleed after I open her internal jugular?" He asked, adding even more pressure to the throat. His hands weren't shaking, he seemed emotionless and sure of what he was ready to do. 

Bruce said the beginning of Jeremiah's name, but before he could say the last three letters, Jeremiah moved his hand slightly to the right, opening the woman's veins in a quick motion. She reacted immediately, her hand reaching up for the wound, blood making it all red. She fell to the floor, helpless, her pleads for help probably getting lost in her throat since the tape was still in it's place. 

Bruce took a step forward, reaching out with his hand to help the woman, but Jeremiah was faster and pressed now bloody knife to brunette's throat, tilting it up. The blade barely touched the skin, it was more like a sign to stay away, not a threat. Bruce still fixed his eyes on the woman, hoping she won't suffer any longer, begging for it to be over. This time he didn't hold back the tears that were forcing their way out of his eyes. 

Woman's hand fell from her throat, blood dripping on the floor. Jeremiah looked at the expensive watch on his other hand, the one that was not busy with holding Bruce in his place. 

'Almost two minutes.' He raised his eyebrow. Bruce couldn't hide his disgust in Jeremiah, he kept biting his inner cheek, trying to calm himself in his mind. 

Then Jeremiah turned back to look at the dead corpse. Then at the man, still alive, breathing heavily. He tried to free his hands, squirming and making attempts of screaming, but none of that worked. He finally stopped when realised that Jeremiah is now looking at him. He starred at both men for a moment  and then... he green light was on. He turned around quickly and started running towards the metal door at the back of the room. He made it half way through when Jeremiah pulled out a gun and pointed it at him.

"Ah ah ah" He clicked his tongue. The prisoner stopped, but did not look back. Even from this distance they could hear him sobbing, shoulders moving up and down.

Jeremiah quickly materialised near him and harshly removed the tape from his mouth, leaving a mark. He pushed him forwards, sending him back to Bruce and the corpse. He was making gurgling sounds and fell to his knees as soon as he got to Bruce. A few tears fell to the floor as well, as the man leaned his head down.

"Kill me..." He pleaded. "Please... " He sobbed, his forehead pressing to Bruce's shoes. He doesn't know if he has ever felt this bad. This responsible. With a real breathing person on their knees begging him to take their life. Bruce squatted down and put his hand on the blonde hair.

"I won't."

"You will." Jeremiah's voice echoed from across the room. 

"End this now, Jeremiah!" Bruce released his anger. He was not going to hold it anymore, Jeremiah deserved all the hate in the world. And a place in Arkham. Bruce was sobbing just like the man on the floor, water soaking from his eyes, blood in his veins getting hotter and hotter.

"You end it. Or I will, but I'll make sure he suffers." 

Bruce shut his eyes closed. For the second time today he felt like he's going to pass out, but for the first time he wish he did. A memory of him and Alfred talking flashed through his mind. 

_"But you used to kill people, as a soldier." Said Bruce, sipping his morning cocoa._

_"I used to." Alfred said, not sounding proud of it at all. "I am not proud of taking any life that I did. But we are all soldiers, Bruce. Some of us fight against bad people, some against ourselves. Our dark selves. As crazy as it may sound, if you win the fight against your dark self, you win the fight against bad people."_

Alfred's words echoed in his mind. He felt strength taking over him. Anger turning into power. It seemed like all the drugs wore off in just a second and with all the physical strength he had he punched Jeremiah in the face, sending him down to the ground. The gun fell to the ground as did Bruce, who gripped Jeremiah's collar and pulled his now bloody face to his.

"You are right. _You_ are no God" He spat to his face and managed to reach the gun with his hand. As Bruce moved towards the exit he heard Jeremiah laugh maniacally from the distance. He stopped for a moment.

"You complete me." 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So there must be a lot of mistakes, I'm very tired since it's almost 2am but I hope you guys enjoyed, your comments give me life!


End file.
